From the Caravan Known as Loveshack
by SasukeBlade
Summary: Drabbles on a typical caravan that happens to be anything but ordinary, yet still manages to get the job done between reapers and some hawt, hawt Yuke and Selkie action. All characters based off the Caravan of Tipa RP.
1. What Roland Saw

So basically, this is a set of drabbles based on all of the characters from the roleplay I've become involved with. Angelic Sword, Nathalie_Cullen13, TheFinalFyler, Xepher-Vaduva, and Senick all play in this roleplay. Their characters will be better introduced the longer we go.

Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox guys and girls!

* * *

The crystal gleams brightly, the setting sun refracting through its multifaceted surface and spilling light across the dirt path where the new caravan waits. He can already see the dynamics forming, some quickly forming bonds while others resist, keeping their distance. But now is not the time to worry about such nonsense as bonds. Friends or not, comrades or not, agreements or not, they will be the next caravan.

This is it, Roland knows as he looks at the four who managed to arrive today. He wonders what became of the other two, then shrugs it off. Sometimes the caravan leaves people behind. It's nothing new.

He is not in the business of killing children, but as he looks at three faces and one sallet, all eager to set out on the road, he thinks that the caravan has never looked so young. The two Selkie girls are steady, though perhaps a bit overconfident. The world outside is not a gentle and delicate place, after all. At least they don't look as frightened as the boy whose face he can see. Determined or not to join the others, the poor Clavat is anxious, shifting from foot to foot as more and more information is poured into his ears. The face behind the sallet is a mystery, and always will be, he thinks with no small measure of sadness. He can already see that the others will never truly know their Yuke comrade, no matter how they try.

There should be others here. The merchant's daughter, the blacksmith's son, where are they? But there is not much time left, and the caravan must be away. Each and every moment is precious when the fate of the entire village is at stake.

"Should we wait?" one of the girls asks, and the others confer. Already they are becoming the united front they must be, in order to face the obstacles the world would offer them.

Whether they decide to wait--something no other caravan has ever done before--or not, Roland is already proud of them. He knows they will return next year triumphant, walking in front of the wagon with smiles on their faces. He can already see the dancing at the festival.

Though the business of gathering myrrh is deadly serious, Roland can't help but smile a little at them as he bids them all a good night. He walks slowly back to his dwelling, passing by the crystal that has been both his savior and his ruin for all these long years. Though he wishes easy dreams for them, it is unlikely that he will sleep well tonight, or for the next three hundred and sixty four nights for that matter.


	2. Grass Is Greener

**In Which Papu Discovers a New Fondness for Rox**

* * *

The caravan had just bedded down for the night, and Papu, as the two-leggers called the papaopamus, felt restless.

Despite the exhaustion of pulling the wooden contraption, which to him seemed to be a moving stable of sorts, through that odd poison stream, Papu couldn't help but stand awake. While the one two-legger that often held the reins usually put him by the best grasses, tonight his tether was just a bit too short to reach the succulent sprouts that lay just beyond his stretching tongue.

With a groan Papu munched on some of the less satisfying grass in front of his hooves. He listened vaguely to the two-leggers' chatter as they sat beside their campfire. They were nice, for all that they babbled as if he would understand them. Particularly that boy, laying on him as if he were a pile of soft grasses! Papu snorted at the thought, then pawed at the ground. Truthfully, he did like the boy for all that he stank of miasma and wouldn't stop whispering in his ear.

They were all nice, in their own way. The girl with the long hair, who was so gentle with the rein. The boy who unharnessed him every night, _usually _making sure to tether him next to the sweetest grasses (Papu vowed to step on his foot tomorrow morning when he came to harness him). Even the other girls, who walked beside him at times and gave him affectionate pats. The flame haired one who smelled of metal and magic rarely spoke to him or showed affection, but Papu knew he cared all the same.

He loved his people. He did. He would pull their strange moving stable to the ends of the earth if necessary. But he couldn't help but long for a little appreciation, all the same. Maybe some oats, or that grain they had. He wouldn't mind a little of that.

Another groan rose from deep in his belly as he strained once more for the delicious green strands. He even stuck his tongue out, trying to pull the grasses into his gaping mouth. This idea, like all the others, failed spectacularly. It even made things worse, for now that he'd had the taste of it, he couldn't help but want more.

The others were bedding down now, he could tell by the way they moved toward their stable. All but the flame haired one pulled out their two-legger blankets. The flame haired one poked at the fire before abruptly standing and making his way over towards the stream they had camped by.

Papu gave a bleat of frustration as the flame haired one passed by him. He'd never be able to eat those enticingly waving blades of grass! In the morning they'd hitch him up so fast he'd never get the chance. He'd always wonder what it would have felt like to eat those few mouthfuls.

As if sensing something to be amiss, the flame haired one stopped and looked long and hard at Papu. "Something wrong, boy?" he said, garbling once more in that unintelligible language they all shared. If only the two-leggers could speak in snorts or grunts, things he could make sense of! Papu heaved a sigh.

That bizarrely colored hair flapped a bit as he turned his head from side to side. "Seems like you have enough water...damnit Alain, why'd you have to sleep? I don't know what...oh. Is it the grass?"

Not having understood a single thing said, Papu once more returned to his task of reaching for that fresh patch. How fast did grass grow anyway? Couldn't it hurry up a little?

Suddenly the flame haired one reached down, making him attempt to shy away. To his surprise he was able to, free of restraints. Papu swung his head to one side, one eye narrowed as he sized up the one who had rarely paid attention to him.

"Hopefully the saying is true for you," he said in response to Papu's wary gaze. "Don't wander."

Papu loved his people. He did. He loved them so much, particularly the flame haired one, that after he finished his grass (so sweet! so good! he would chew it over again on the road tomorrow!) he would head over to the moving stable and feast on their oats and grain too. After all, those were bad for two-leggers, and he only wanted to protect them.

* * *

Rox is played by the ever mysterious TheFinalFyler.


	3. All By Myself: Don't Wanna Be

**In Which Mog Is Single, And Just Can't Take It Anymore**

* * *

Mog couldn't take it anymore. All of the caravan had found love with each other. Megan and Dai, Layla and Alain, Jackie and Rox...

Originally he'd been holding out for Jackie. She'd been so kind, and so warm that night in her bedroll. He'd been hoping she'd one day see him as more than just the chalice carrier, but it was so hard to make a good impression when one's mouth was full with the chalice! And then Rox had stolen a march on him with all that angst and mystery. It just wasn't fair, kupo! Mog had a tragic past too! He had people that wanted to kill him! He was even more mysterious than the helmet head when it really came down to it.

And really, she could be happy with him. He was quite the lady killer, after all. With that red pom pom and gloriously soft fur, the ladies couldn't keep their hands off him. Everywhere he went, the caravanners would pet him and cuddle him. He, of course, played it up magnificently, being his charming self. If he'd just had a bit more time, Jackie would have fallen in love with him.

But if she was happy with Rox, then what could he do? He really did want her to be happy. Mog sighed as he contemplated his options. Dai seemed open to most things and Megan was really nice. Maybe they'd be willing to let Mog in on the deal?

He tried to picture asking the easygoing Selkies for such a favor. But of course they'd let him. He was an old friend, and incredibly handsome to boot, kupo! Why, just look at that fur! Well, all right, so he'd let himself go a little and _maybe_ he needed a new paint job. That would be fixed as soon as they reached the next moogle house.

Everyone was already sleeping, he couldn't just barge in and sleep in the bedroll of his choice anymore. With a sigh Mog flew over to where Papu steadily munched his way through the area's ecosystem. At least there was another single creature in this caravan. He didn't know what he'd do if the blue beast found his special papaopamus.

The thought was enough to make him scream, the sound thankfully muffled by biting his red pom pom. Mog vowed that he would do whatever it took to make sure Papu never found a mate. He wasn't going to be the only single in this traveling love shack, kupo.


	4. Suspicions Confirmed, or No Rox x Alain

**The Alternative Ending to the Scythe Throwing Scene**

* * *

There was no time to dodge. In all his little whispers and thoughts, he'd never pictured it coming to this. Things seemed to slow, and while there were spells for that he knew no one had the foresight nor the time to cast it. It was merely his mind, trying to make sense of things. His mind, faster than his body would ever be.

He could see Layla, standing frozen to the right. Her mouth was open, her hair floating as if she were in the midst of movement. Though there was so much else to focus on, he knew he'd remember that moment forever, as if it had been carved into stone. He thought that she was beautiful even with her eyes so frantic.

He looked back to Rox, stunned by both the pole so near his face and the sheer hatred that covered the Yuke's normally tranquil face. Then there was a sharp sound, a crack, and pain exploded across his body and face. Alain fell backward, crying out as darkness threatened to engulf him. It felt as if his body had tried to split itself in two.

Sound suddenly returned to him, and he could hear Megan's shout even as Layla landed on her knees beside him, gathering him into her lap. "Alain, Alain!" she sobbed. "Oh God!"

Blood trickled into the back of his throat, tickling, an odd sensation amidst all the pain but he couldn't bear to cough, feeling that his chest would explode if he did. He sucked in one sharp, aching breath, then took another. It became easier with each intake of air, if not less painful.

Megan yanked her sword from its sheath. "You could have killed him!" she screamed, sinking into a fighter's stance and raising her blade in a classic defense. "Is that what you wanted, Rox? Was Dai not enough?"

Demi also came to stand over him, though Alain could barely see the redheaded Selkie through what felt like eyes the size of melons. Jackie must have joined Megan, he realized, as he listened to two feminine voices rise and fall in direct opposite to Rox's.

"Cure," he hissed, finally finding his voice. "Cure, _please_."

Layla swore softly to herself. "Right here, just a minute. God, Alain, I'm so sorry!" she was unable to continue her lament, caught up with the spell. Alain noticed with a start that her eyes had unfocused a bit._ She must be channeling all her energy,_ he realized with a sudden surge of affection. He appreciated it more than she'd ever know.

Cool healing light settled over him, easing away the aches of his chest, repairing the cracked ribs, setting his broken nose with a grate of cartilage, bringing down the swelling around his eyes and face. He sighed in relief. In the moment that the spell took to wash away his pain, he gripped Layla's hand. "Thank you."

She helped him to his feet, then over to the spring nearby. He splashed water on his face, grimacing when it ran dark pink. He continued to wash until the water ran clear, then stripped off his shirt to wash his chest as well.

The shirt was irrepairably stained, he realized, wincing at the dark red splotch that had spread from the neck down as a result of his broken nose and split lips. He grimaced at the amount of blood that had poured from his face. Suddenly picturing Rox's face in that breathless moment between the throw and the impact, he shivered from more than the chill of the evening breeze on wet skin. He would never forget this night, if not for himself, then for all the others.

Some of Alain's suspicions had been correct. He would have to keep a careful eye on the man he'd once looked up to as their leader.

* * *

**The ever mysterious Rox is played by TheFinalFyler, the lovely Layla is played by Senick, the marvelous Megan by Angelic Sword, and the always awkward Alain by myself.**


	5. What REALLY Goes On In Rox's Diary

**In Which a Great Debate Is Held, and Rox Is As Mysterious As Ever**

* * *

"So Rox," Layla said, having slowed to walk near the back of the caravan rather than the front. "What are you writing?"

The Yuke, having divided his time between looking as seasick as a rookie sailor and scribbling furiously in the heavy book he carried, immediately snapped the book shut. "Nothing important," he said, placing the book to his side away from Layla. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Layla said after a moment, a bit shocked at the abrupt reply. Strangely enough she wasn't surprised by the secrecy. Had Rox actually explained what he was doing, she would have wondered if he had hit his head.

Seeing that he wasn't in any mood to talk, she flushed and made an excuse before nearly dashing for the front of the wagon, where Alain slouched on the driver's box and Megan and Dai walked side by side.

"Hey!" the cheerful Selkie called to her friend, smiling brightly at Layla. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Layla shrugged, slowing to walk beside Papu. "Well, Rox didn't really seem like he wanted to talk, so I figured I'd come up here."

"Does he have his book out?" Dai asked with a grin. "My Roxy is always like that when he's got that book~"

Alain ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "He does get a little weird whenever it's out. I wonder what he's always writing in there."

The four friends walked together, speculations about the book growing wilder and wilder. What started with guesses of a journal of their adventures, or Rox's diary, soon turned to the Yuke's next greatest novel, his secret mission reports, and Layla's thought that perhaps _Rox _was the mastermind behind the great Lilty wordsmith Shakespeare's plays.

Rox listened to the debate with a smile. His sallet was great for catching sounds and echoing them enough for him to finally hear them properly. With a flourish of a signature, he finished the latest page and tore it from the book, folding it several times before handing it off to Mog.

"The usual," he informed the moogle, who nodded.

"What's this one called, sir?" the moogle begged. He'd been an eager reader since the very beginning.

Rox steepled his fingers and smiled once more. "I call this poem... _Like Rose Petals, the Crimson Blood Drips From My Wrists...Part Two_."

The moogle gasped with delight. "Oh, Mr. Rox, sir, tell me the sequel to your first anthology, _Alone In This Cruel World_, will be out soon!"

The Yuke waved Mog off with an idle hand. "Soon enough," he said, watching the moogle leap into the air and flutter off toward Shella.

As the debate about his activities died down at the front of the wagon, he leaned back and rested his head on his hands. It was nice to have a loyal fan about, he mused, and even nicer that none of the caravan had thought to question where all the gil was coming from yet.

Really, it wasn't like gil grew on goblins.


	6. Keepers of the Chalice

**In Which Elinor Swears. Okay, So That's Not Really What It's About. But It Got You Interested, Right?**

* * *

He's a protector.

He knows that the demons are evil the second that they encounter them, that the rest are too inexperienced (too innocent) to handle them just yet. He knows that the demons are looking for a challenge. So he makes himself a target.

It costs him what little sleep he has, it costs him his relationships, it nearly costs him his life. He wonders every day what they will take from him next, if someone will die because he wasn't alert enough to see it coming, prepared enough to fight back, dark enough to finish them off.

He dreams about it, in those few moments of sleep, and wakes sweating.

But he's a protector, and he'll defend them to the death.

O-O-O

She's a protector.

She knows that Dai has darkness in him, that they all have their secret fears and woes. She knows that the pressures of caravanning and demons could make them all snap. So she makes herself a source of comfort.

She loves Dai, worries for Rox, encourages Alain and Layla, befriends Jackie. She doesn't have much to do for Demi, but Demi was always so capable. She wonders what Mackenzie and Elinor will need, when their time inevitably comes. Everyone needs.

She holds them close to her, and prays they'll never require the ultimate sacrifice.

But she's a protector, and if the alternative is losing them, she'll take her chances.

O-O-O

She's a protector.

She knows that there are terrible things in this world, monsters and miasma only the beginning. She knows that any of them could die at any moment, that this world could steal each of them in an instant. So she smiles and makes the best of it.

She tells jokes and splashes them, writes cheerful letters home and spars with anyone up for a fight. She is the only one who can get close to Rox when he's in a mood, the only one who can make him smile. She understands his darkness, because she is the light.

She smiles at the world, knowing it is only a dare to frown right back.

But she's a protector, and she'll die with an assurance on her lips that everything will be all right.

O-O-O

He's a protector.

He knows that, in his heart, none of them could do this alone. He knows that there is so much more at stake than lives and loves.

So he brings them close together, the better to defend against the outside world, even as he shields them from each other. He asks the hard questions and he fights the good fight.

He takes a lance to the face and prays that they understand the only truth in this world: together, they are stronger.

But he's a protector, and if it means he never leads, then he'll make his stand beside them.

O-O-O

She's a protector.

She knows that there will always be someone better than her. Someone faster, someone stronger, someone with a weapon she can't counter, someone more deserving of Alain's love.

Even the demons, horrific as they are, are only the surface. There are greater forces in this world. So what if they have all met their matches? Someday they will all meet someone _better._

She swore a promise to Demi that she would try her best no matter what. All she can do is keep training, keep trying, and hope that when they meet those people, those people are on their side.

But she's a protector, and while her best is all she can really do, she'll never stop improving.

O-O-O

She was a protector.

She knew that there was danger beyond the crystal's glow, that there were fates worse than death. She's thankful that her death came swiftly, that she died in a friend's arms, that she was loved in her last moments.

She walks beside them now, though they don't know it. Sometimes Rox sees her, in those long nights when he doesn't sleep. Sometimes Layla feels her, during those dreams that make her toss and turn fitfully.

Another dream, and she strokes her apprentice's long hair. She whispers lullabies, knowing they will be heard somehow, even if they will never speak again in anything but memory.

But she's a protector, and that wasn't likely to change with such a small setback as death.

O-O-O

He's a protector.

He knows that there is beauty in this world, somewhere. He has wandered the world seeking it, learning it, bringing it to others. He had thought that was all he wanted from this life.

Now everything has changed. The others admire his skills, express envy, but as he listens to their exploits, he finds himself admiring them. There is beauty in their brokenness, glory in their sharp edges and love in their unity.

He finds himself wanting to take up their cause, to raise their banner high, to aid them in any way he can. He has no skill with weapons, true.

But he's a protector, and he'll trumpet their victories to the skies.

O-O-O

She's a protector.

She doesn't know much of the outside world, but she can imagine. And imagine she has, all her life as her tutors lectured and postured over the years. She learned what they taught, and through sheer stubbornness a few skills they didn't.

When she finds them, it's as if all her prayers are answered. A serious group, a dangerous group, a tight-knit group, and yet so very light and accepting at the same time. How could she ever leave with them? How could she ever leave them?

She's already one of them, though she may not know or believe it.

But she's a protector, and they're hers now, damn it.


	7. Parodeeeeeeee

**In Which Nothing is Sacred. Nothing, I Tell You.**

* * *

The sun rose that morning, as suns often do, in a rather bright manner. The grass was green, as usual for such a fine spring morning. The crystal gleamed, as it should, for the night before had been the crystal rejuvenation ceremony. Bottles, both broken and whole, of the infamous Moschet Hooch littered the ground, as expected once the previous caravanners had announced their retirement.

Jackie, a blonde woman of the Selkie tribe, looked as if she hadn't slept or smiled in days. This was probably because she hadn't. She wandered the town, leather-bound journal in hand, idly kicking at the glass as she walked. Suddenly she paused, then stooped to look at a particular shard. With a shrug she pocketed it, then continued on to the crystal.

Meeting her there would be a group of others, not that she cared. They'd all hate her anyway. No one would understand her, or see through the dark leggings, skirt, and furs to her wounded heart. They wouldn't care. She liked the middle thought so much that she opened her journal and paused to locate her quill and ink jar. It could be the start of a new poem.

Raeanalas Ozeriata Xalferi woke up feeling wonderful. He rose from his bed and flung open the curtains to reveal the morning light. "Oh, what a lovely day," he sighed, hands clasped near his heart as he regarded the crystal. It was still early, so he sank into a few stretches, then moved into Downward Dog. With his rear high in the air, his spine straight, and only his hands and toes touching the ground, he felt truly connected to the earth.

After a healthy breakfast of wheat germ and water, Rox, as he was known to friends and family, slowly made his way up the short distance to the crystal. On the way he paused to hug the family tree, Trunky. "I'll miss you," he whispered into Trunky's soft bark. The tree creaked a sorrowful reply, and the two parted with tears in what functioned for their eyes.

Rox was not the only one parting from his loved ones with tears. Across town, Megan Fei had tried unsuccessfully to sneak out of her latest lover's window, and failed completely. Now tears gathered in her eyes as she was thwacked over and over again with a rolling pin.

"You stay away from my boy!" Goodwife Joyce, the Lilty miller's rather rotund and flour covered wife, smacked Megan again. "I won't have ye flashin' yer charms in his face and leadin' him on! Either git to the alter with him or git outta town!"

Well, Megan knew a goodbye when she heard one.

Dai Soo did as well. As he waited by the crystal for Roland to appear, he prayed that all these clowns who had gathered here were simply the farewell party. Seriously, how could he expect to gather myrrh with these nutjobs? First the treehugger (don't think he didn't see it happen, the alchemists' house is right by the square!) who was now sitting in front of the crystal, "absorbing it's healing properties." Then the Selkie in black, who already hated them. Then the other Selkie girl, who was currently using the crystal's reflection to powder her face and apply lip paint. There was currently no hope, but Roland had mentioned another.

Ah, there he was. Dai looked with blatant approval at the Clavat approaching. Though he was scrawny, gangly, and looked as if he'd never carried a sword in his life, at least he seemed to take this seriously.

Alain reached them, already out of breath. His eyes immediately fell on Megan and never quite fell off.

That was when Dai Soo realized he'd have to save them all.

* * *

They were making camp a few days out on the road, and Dai was ready to throw in the towel and head home. There was no way they were going to make it.

The first day he'd caught the dark-dressed Selkie, Jackie, cutting herself with an elbow blade instead of training. "Save it for the monsters!" he'd snapped. She'd ran to the other side of the caravan to cry.

Rox had immediately followed, taking with him several of his relaxation stones. He'd tried to give one to Dai earlier. Dai had chucked it at his head. Rox had suggested meditation and anger inoculation practice, as well as some group therapy. If Dai had his way, he'd put the Yuke in physical therapy.

Hearing the commotion, Megan sauntered over, hips swaying with each step. "Oh," she said, placing a hand delicately on his bicep. "I do love a strong, powerful man."

Behind her, Alain quickly took a look at his own muscles, then began to do some exercises.

Dai considered screaming, then realized it would only bring Rox back. Instead he sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands.

* * *

At last, he'd found an ally! Her name was Layla, and she was the only one he could count on...provided she didn't kill him first.

"Did you just _breathe_ on me?" the girl in question screamed, lifting Alain off his feet by his collar. She stared contemptuously at the pathetic boy. "Do you think you're even _near_ my league?"

Behind them, the River Belle Crab trembled in his little hideaway. He'd planned to come leaping out and surprise them. He loved surprises. A lot of caravans didn't, though. All he really wanted to play was tag...but this caravan didn't seem very nice, not at all.

"_Who do you think you are?_" Layla roared and punched Alain, releasing him so that he flew beyond the range of the chalice. Mog desperately flew to move the circle. For a drastic moment he contemplated leaving Layla out of the circle. But no, she'd kill him.

Everyone was rethinking letting Layla join at this point, but Sol Racht had practically ran for it after throwing her at them. Smart man, that one.

* * *

Oh, it was too easy! Scarmiglione hovered over the peaceful scene. All the little caravanners slumbered in their bedrolls except for one. Poor little Raeanalas hadn't finished his nightly rituals yet. He glided closer.

_"Hello, Raeanalas," the karite sneered. "I've been waiting for you!"_

There was no response from the Yuke. Scarmiglione came even closer. _"Raeanalas," _he crooned. _"Come now, don't ignore your best friend Scar! Not when I only want to make your life...interesting!"_

Still, there was no reaction. Rox sat as still as if he'd been cast as a statue. With a huff, Scarmiglione returned to the air. There was another caravan not too far away, and certainly not as _boring_. Besides, he'd always loved Lilties, the feisty little midgets.

* * *

At Marr's Pass, the innkeeper's dainty daughter rented them a room. She couldn't find the key to one of the rooms, though.

Layla broke the door down with one wild kick and shout combination. The innkeeper's daughter, known as Demi, fainted at the unorthodox sight.

* * *

Dai woke up that night to find Megan in his bed, slowly stroking her fingers over his bare chest. He didn't bother peeking under the covers. He knew what he'd find.

With a sigh of long suffering and little understanding, he got up and left the inn. Hell, he'd sleep with Papu before he'd ever touch her!

* * *

"All right, slave," Layla addressed Alain. "You may drive us home now."

"Yes, mistress," the scrawny Clavat said, and obediently flapped the reins. He'd learned months ago that it was better to obey than for her to decide she needed to use the whip.

* * *

Yuiat made an excellent dinner for several goblins and later for a very hungry Layla, who had proven to the caravan by now that she would, in fact, eat rocks if she was so inclined.

* * *

At last, Jackie had found someone who understood her.

Those dulcet tones, the sheer _pain _of each sound, the anguish that seemed to wrack his very body...yes, this Yuke was the one. He was her soulmate. They were tragic, star-crossed lovers. It didn't matter that she didn't know his name. Just listening to him shrieking, throwing himself back and forth and writhing in sheer ecstatic expression was enough. She was mad, she was in love. They were one and the same.

She wrote him love poem after love poem, signed her name in blood each time, and left them hung from the tree she'd first saw him playing by. She knew that someday he would read them. She knew that someday they would be together.

How could they not be? They were perfect strangers in an imperfect world.

* * *

The city of Alfitaria was as large as its name was long. Normally, with so many people crammed into such a space, chaos would have run rampant. Instead, Alfitaria was the most organized city in the world. It was also the only city, but that didn't matter to Elinor.

Clipboard in one hand, she patrolled the streets with her multiple assistants. "Need two more guards for day shift in the Business District," she said idly, and every single one of them hastened to write down her every word.

"Hmm," she mused as she passed by the gates. "The cobblestones on the right side are looking a little shabby." Quills dipped into ink jars in unison, and the assistants used each others' backs to write on as they formed a glorious, unified, scribely circle.

So distracted with their circle of write were her assistants that they didn't even notice the even shoddier caravan that pulled in, or the incredibly disorganized group that rode in it. Elinor couldn't even speak, the sight of it nearly made her have a fit. Ignoring her lack of assistants she marched up to this new group and demanded to speak to their leader.

"We...we haven't really got one," Alain stammered. Layla smirked and cleared her throat. He visibly jumped. She loved it when they were well trained like this.

Dai had no reaction to any of this. He was now too apathetic to care. As long as they got the myrrh, the rest of these crazies could do what they liked. Except that Megan could get her hand off his thigh like RIGHT NOW.

Elinor nearly had an apoplexy at that answer, but visibly reined herself in.

"Well then," she said. And that was how Elinor became the leader of Tipa's caravan.

* * *

They got the rest of the myrrh within a month and made it home so early Roland told them to go somewhere else for awhile, seriously guys, you think we pick the best people in the village for a caravan? Haha. Now get.

It didn't take Elinor long to organize his assassination and take over as Queen of Tipa. In fact, it only took about ten minutes, and that was because for the first seven no one took notes of what she was saying, like she was so accustomed to. Then Layla lent her Alain, and all was well.

Except Dai, because he was the only sane one here.


	8. Another Lifetime

**In Which the Possibilities Brought Up In Ring of Fates Are Explored Not Very Thoroughly.**

* * *

There is a time, in that exact moment between waking and sleeping, that one catches glimpses of...oddities. Things not quite tangible, ghosts of the past perhaps, or places one has never actually seen. Some say these things simply memories long forgotten, dreams, or infinite possibilities. Some say they are nothing, and are best left forgotten.

_Does this make them any less real?

* * *

_

In that moment between waking and sleeping, Layla sees them.

In this other lifetime, or life that never was, Dai Soo does not make it to the caravan that year. Because the caravan left without him, Roland recommends that Layla remain home as well. When the group returns that year, Megan and Alain are a couple. She attends the wedding, but thinks little of the handsome young man kissing his new bride. Besides, Dai is sitting next to her.

"Layla~" he says, taking her hand in his beneath the table, "There's something I want to ask you."

She turns to him quizzically, but Dai has never been good with words. He says all he means to with a simple kiss, and Layla forgets the wedding entirely.

She marries Dai within that next year. They never join the caravan. Demi doesn't either, and lives to a ripe old age, keeping the inn at Marr's Pass. Something is missing from all their lives. None of them realize what it is.

_Was it a missed opportunity?

* * *

_

Sometimes, when Elinor drifts off in an afternoon nap, she dreams of them.

In a fate that was never hers, she ends up betrothed as a child. The boy has just been born. Her mother tells her that the babe's name is Leon, like his daddy. She frowns at his pinched face and tiny body.

"I can't marry a baby," she protests, knowing very well the rules of the game of House. The other noble girls like to play it, like to be the mothers and wives. Babies are supposed to be _taken care of_, not married. When she plays, she always plays the husband. She isn't yet old enough for it to be considered unseemly.

"He won't always be a baby," her mother tells her. "Someday he'll be a big, strong man, and he'll need a wonderful lady like you."

_But I'm not a lady_, Elinor thinks. When she tries to tell her etiquette tutor this, the woman reports it to her mother. Assuming she is doing her daughter a kindness, her mother tells the tutors to kindly but firmly rid her daughter of this notion.

Years later, she is a fine young woman, and Leon Esla Jr. is proud to display her on his arm. Their marriage is decent. He never hits her. She has her own private library. They sleep in separate beds.

The night she discovers she is pregnant, the healer tells her the child will be a girl. All Elinor can feel is panic. She can't raise a child in this place, in this way. She is not, and refuses to be, her mother.

Sol Racht takes her to Marr's Pass without question, where she becomes the assistant innkeeper. She and Demi are the closest of friends for many years, and when Demi teaches her daughter the ways of unarmed combat, Elinor couldn't be prouder.

_Was it a series of choices?

* * *

_

Occasionally, the music takes him back, far back, to a time before. He finds himself playing odd tunes, tribal tunes, ones that sound familiar but shouldn't.

When he closes his eyes, he pictures a rocky shore. He is perched on a smooth log. He is not playing a flute, but something much longer and deeper. The young ones love his piping, they dance madly to it, tiny feet pounding into the ground.

"C'mon, Ken Zie," his little brother, Mal Qui shouts. He has bright green hair and eyes, and is nearer and dearer to Mackenzie's heart than anyone else on the isle. "Play 'Moon Waves!'"

As he shifts into the slower tune, eyes closed, Jackie turns to him in surprise. "How do you know that song?" she asks, the sound of her voice jogging him into the here and now. He misses a note, and then can't seem to find the tune again. Putting his flute aside, he shrugs.

"Call it intuition."

_Was it a previous life?

* * *

_

During his most sleep-deprived times, Rox imagines other scenarios.

As their leader, he decides to wait for their two missing members. As a result, they are a week late in setting out. Alfitaria's caravan visits and leaves before they are ready.

Their first year is uneventful. They pick up Demi in Marr's Pass, but that is the only thing beyond the ordinary gathering of myrrh. Roland welcomes them back joyfully, and questions them closely. He is startled to discover why.

"The caravan that visited wrote to say they'd been having odd encounters ever since, with demons and the like," the elder said, shaking his head sadly. "Whether they've simply gone mad or not, at least they're still getting their drops of myrrh."

"Could've been us," Megan mutters.

It could've been. Rox beds down with the others that night, sleeping peacefully.

_Was it a matter of timing?

* * *

_

Maybe there are a thousand versions of Rox and Megan and Layla and Elinor and the rest. Maybe these versions wonder what if. Maybe this life is just a daydream in another person's mind.

_Did it happen?_

_Does it even really matter?_


	9. Three Cheers: Alain x Layla

For Senick. I may forget your prompts, but they're always worth discovering again. You asked for a love story about Alain and Layla, times three. I (sort of not really) obliged.

Spoilers for my own (possible) plans for Alain.

**THREE CHEERS  
**

_All you need is love.

* * *

_

* * *

**One for the love we shared.**

_Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly.

* * *

_

The scene is picturesque, golden poppies blooming in a wide open meadow, sun firing overhead in a powder blue sky. The road is worn, the caravan tilting and rocking soothingly. His eyelids flutter, then drift shut even as he smiles at the sound of Megan laughing in the back and Rox's indignant tone.

Fingers twine with his, pull his hand up, soft skin presses to his scraped and scarred knuckles in a sweet kiss. Alain opens one eye to meet Layla's smiling gaze. He blows her a kiss back, she pretends to dodge it and look affronted. Well, that just won't do.

He opens both eyes, growls in jest. She snarls just as playfully, pretends to bite at him, lips curling sensually. She still hasn't let go of his hand. He pulls her to him, kisses her soundly. Yanking back, she bites his lip, then soothes it with her tongue, and laughs at his hurt expression.

"Kiss it better?" she offers, tapping her lips with her index finger.

Alain grimaces. "Might end up in more pain that way," he muses, and dodges her playful retaliatory smack. "Off with you, woman. Go bother the others!"

Layla pecks him on the cheek, then whirls away toward the back of the caravan. He slumps back into his customary driving slouch, allowing his eyelids to slowly droop again. There are dangers behind and ahead, but somehow, right then, he can't seem to care.

Oh, what a life.

Oh, what a girl.

* * *

**Two for the life we made.**

_The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.

* * *

_

Sometimes, Layla wonders if there was any way it could have ended differently.

She thinks of her battle with Barbariccia, how the wind sorceress's harsh, cawing laughter had turned to screams as she strangled her, clenched fingers sparking with holy light. But it was too late, the damage was done. Alain lay buried under rock and rubble, and when they finally managed to claw their way to him, he looked like...well...this.

How is it that the guilt wells just as deeply, just as strongly as it did when those long slashes across his face bled sluggishly? That even though now he sleeps peacefully beside her, eyelids twitching occasionally as he dreams beneath the moonlight draping over their bed, she aches to apologize for a red-ruined shirt, a scarred face, a lifelong fear of being trapped? She wonders if he sees when he dreams. She wonders what.

Layla sighs, and even in his sleep Alain reaches out and pulls her against his side. And just like that, love overwhelms the guilt, filling up even the emptiest and loneliest places of her heart. She sighs again, reaches out with tender fingertips to brush the brown strands of hair from his forehead, to trace her way across the lines of his face. Not all of them are war wounds.

Some, like the crow's feet that stretch from the corners of his eyes, are from long days spent in the sun. She thinks of a myriad of camps, a hundred roads, stretches of golden sand and deep blue sea and vast green hills. She thinks of eyes squinted in thought and narrowed in anger and crinkled in smiles.

Some, like the furrows in his brow, are from times of worry and flurries of hard thought. She thinks of the way they used to strategize before each dungeon, and of the times those strategies couldn't possibly have prepared them for what followed. An image of singing for the Moschets springs to mind, she giggles quietly, muffling the noise with her pillow, then gasps as something collides with her abdomen.

And some, like the deep lines near his mouth, are all from smiling. Perhaps that's the best thing about Alain, Layla thinks. Despite such a hard life, he still has that same smile. The one he showed her the first time they kissed, cheeks flushed with liking and embarrassment, and the day they married, and when she told him about the soon to be addition to their little family.

She shifts against him, trying to find a comfortable place for her aching back and expanded waistline. Though Alain loves to snuggle in his sleep, his unconscious mind never leaves enough room for a pregnant belly. She supposes she can forgive him for that.

Unbidden she pictures him asleep, just like this, sprawled out on his back. This time, there's a baby curled up on his chest, mouth open, drooling slightly on his linen shirt, both exhausted from hours of romping play. The baby has her dark brown hair, though it's as wild and sun-kissed at the edges as Alain's. Oh, that's her nose and his lips on one sweet, tiny face. Pressing a hand to her belly, her breath catches on a sob as she selfishly wishes she could see the child's eyes now, see whether they are Alain's dark brown or her own hazel, all the while knowing Alain will never see their child's face with his own eyes.

There is a change in Alain's breathing, he licks his lips, listening for a moment. She watches as he reaches for the sword that never leaves his side, the sentient steel that somewhat, somehow serves as his eyes now. "Sweetheart," he says after a moment, voice a throaty rumble, "Is something wrong?"

"No," she replies, smiling as his hand finds hers and waits for the baby's kick. "Just a bit of restlessness. Little Jackie-Rox wants to be up and about."

He pokes her lightly in the side. "Please tell me you're not actually considering that name."

"Why not? Jackie said if her next one's a girl, she'll name it Alaila."

Acting very put-upon, Alain rolls over to his side to face her, unconsciously echoing her earlier gesture and brushing her bangs away from her face. "I agreed to Mackenzie, heck, I am a handsome man. I agreed to Elli, or Elinor, or even Jacqueline or Roxanne. But Jackie-Rox? No. Just...just no."

Unable to resist, Layla adds, teasing, "Though I'm very partial to Dai-Ann. You know, combining Dai and Megan."

Alain groans and rolls back over onto his back. "Just for that, the baby's going to be a boy. You wait," he threatens. "And I'll name it Sol Hurdy or something."

"You wouldn't!" she gasps, poking him in the chest. "Don't you dare!"

"I won't, I won't, just let me go back to sleep," he begs, and they settle in once more.

She never thought it would be like this, their life together. But then, she could never have imagined the sweetness and the sadness of waking each day to his beautifully scarred face.

There is not a single moment of their life she would trade, not for anything.

* * *

**Three for the time we had.**

_And it's true; no matter how much you have, there's never enough time in the world…_

* * *

The soft, subtle scent of lavender fills the room. She sits at the edge of their bed, a laden breakfast tray clattering on the end table, juice sloshing gently in its cup but not spilling over. Gone are the days of the clumsy archer, her steps are more carefully taken with age, balance requiring more thought.

"How are you feeling today?" she asks him, and Alain sighs.

"Still old," he replies, inviting her to share the joke with a smile. Maybe it's the sword's influence, maybe it's that he knows her so well, but he could swear he feels her mouth pull up into a small smile of her own.

"Rox and Jackie's boy is going to be here soon," she mentions after a moment, though all their children are certainly no longer boys and girls. "The one that keeps the records. We should probably figure out what we're going to do about-"

"Layla," he interrupts her, hating the quaver her voice takes on whenever these things come up, wanting to talk about anything else. "Kiss me."

He knows she's looking at him, mouth slightly open in surprise and amusement. He knows she's closing it now in a sort of 'figures' way. It might be the sword, it might be a long life spent together. Does it matter? He _knows_, just like he knows every inch of this room and every inch of this bed and every inch of that caravan he spent so many years in. He pats the space next to him, the space where she used to sleep beside him every night, before the cough got so bad she had to go elsewhere for a bit of rest. "It's about time," he announces, "That this marriage bed was used for something other than sleeping in."

She laughs and climbs in obligingly, struggling to get her arthritic knee over his lap. He not so helpfully contributes by pushing her over. Tumbling as ungracefully as she did all those years ago, she sits up and huffs, bedsprings squeaking with each sharp movement. He's so sure she's glaring. It makes him smile. She is always so striking when she is angry.

"Well, I'll sit here with you, but I don't know if you'll be able to do any more than that," she retorts, fluffing his pillows and then her own, always so good to him even when she's furious.

"Can't know until we try," he says with a wink.

Her hair swishes as her head shakes. A wave of lavender perfume strikes him, he breathes in deeply, holds it to him like a long lost friend. How silver is it now, he wonders? Is her mane as gray as a Selkie's, or are there still hints of that lovely autumn brown that gleamed in the sunlight?

Gentle touches on his face, fingertips tracing the lines and scars. "Oh, Alain," she whispers, and her voice has gone soft and shaky again. He closes his eyes, like it matters, and takes another deep breath, fighting the lump in his throat. How he'll miss this. Miss her. She feathers a light kiss on his cheek, he turns and presses his lips to hers. His passion has not faded with age, only tempered, like the finest steel or the best wine.

"Only the good die young," he whispers in her ear, drawing a watery chuckle.

_"You were never good," _both she and that damn sword reply at the exact same time.

He could explain to her why he's laughing so hard, but when she's baffled like this she forgets why he's laying in this bed day after day, and so he doesn't say a word.

He kisses her again. "Rox and Jackie's boy can wait," he tells her. "We'll take our time."

* * *

_That's where love goes. _  
_Love never goes._


	10. Pieces of Year One

For the sake of nostalgia and everyone having access to the remaining parts of Year One, I've decided to put up what I saved as a new chapter of Loveshack.

Alas, everything is from Alain's point of view, as my note to myself in the document seemed to think I needed this for sidequest information. The sidequest must have been the demons and later the Black Knight, because otherwise there's really no connection I can think of. The breaks are where I guess-timated them to be based on the writing. In some places it was pretty difficult to tell. I broke them up based on content and context...eg, it seemed someone must have interjected dialogue for that to make sense, so put in a break.

Enjoy a little piece of Year One! Alas, if only I'd thought to save it all. :(

* * *

Hearing a door close somewhere down the hall, Alain decided to investigate. Layla was sleeping soundly now, over her nightmare. Strands of hair had fallen across her face, one hand flung out to her side, the other tangled in her hair. Her lips were parted, face pale in the moonlight that fell through the window to alight on her skin. His breath caught in his throat at the sight.

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers, then stroked the hair from her face with a soft brush of his fingertips. "I'll be back in a little while," he whispered, not sure if she would wake or not.

Layla stirred a little, but Alain was already twisting the doorknob and stepping into the brightly lit hallway.

"Rox," Alain said, not surprised to see the Yuke in the lobby. Few candles lit the foyer, and in the dim Rox's hair looked like blood.

The Yuke looked up at him, then down at the book he was once again writing in. "You have something to say to me?" he said, noticing the very odd expression on the Clavat's face.

"I have to know," he said after a moment. "Was it all an act? Did you intend to trick them all along?" Some of what Rox had said and done had been frighteningly real.

* * *

The sudden weather change had taken Alain by surprise, and he moved to the room's sole window to see what was happening. His body stiffened in shock to see Layla, Meg, and Rox facing down the demons. Jackie ran to join them, and though the odds had improved Alain knew they would need all the help they could get.

A cold, numb feeling seemed to overtake his chest, and he pulled on his new jerkin with hands that were surprisingly steady. Something told him that this was _the_ encounter. Whatever happened here would decide all their fates.

He finished his laces and headed for the door. Naked sword in hand, he stepped out into the storm, ignoring Demi's questions and heading for the others.

* * *

Alain had flushed a brighter red than Dai's back at his little singsong. He tightened his grip on the reins, fists clenched so hard his knuckles were bone white. If Layla had not practically thrown the reins into his hands, he would have been the one to climb down from the driver's box and find him. As it was he could only forcefully tamp down his anger.

"We're here," he announced, pulling back slowly on the reins to guide Papu to a halt. The miasma stream glowed ahead, an eerie, twisting blue that was not dampened by the ripples in the chalice shield.

* * *

Dai swore loudly when the wagon suddenly shot forward, already lunging to put his own weight into holding it back. He was straining against the wood, booted feet skidding on the slick stone of the miasma stream when the caravan suddenly slowed further. He straightened slightly, still pushing at the wagon with all his might. "That's my Meggie~" He grinned even though the strain was obvious. Alain didn't even want to imagine the toll this was taking on his body.

Not to say that Alain was standing by and doing nothing. He had urged Papu to a trot, a pace it was normally not forced to use due to the wagon and long days on the road. The beast grunted as it followed him, and Alain had to work to ensure that it did not veer left or right, a direction that would drag them all to their deaths in the seemingly endless miasma.

The stream was not very large, and abruptly it seemed that the gusts lessened, then died out nearly entirely. They had made it through the worst of it unharmed.

* * *

Dai gave a wolf whistle, and even Jackie grinned. She was happy for the two of them.

He'd thought he'd managed to get past the fact that Layla was_ incredibly_ pretty and that he was incredibly _tongue-tied_, but the flush that crept up his neck and made him turn bright red told him otherwise. He could only nod in response, unable to ignore Megan's knowing, if kind smile, and Rox's smirk.

"I am the rancher's son, after all," he said after a moment, but had to think about that. He was so much more than that now. Joining the caravan had finally helped him in his journey to become more than just the rancher's second son. "But I'd love the help."

He pulled all of his clothing out of his packs, wincing at the smell of some of them. Blood and sweat were not generally his scent of choice, and he hunted for the soap he'd packed into one of the compartments. "Anyone need any wash done?" he asked, looking pointedly at Dai, whose furs were looking rather grimy.

Without another word Alain gathered up the packs marked with his, Rox's, and Dai's names and moved towards the stream. He needed to think about all that had occurred. And, he realized, he needed to think about all that might occur.

With the Clavat gone, Rox let out a low chuckle. He didn't want to embarrass him, after all. "I can't decide what the most poorly kept secret in this caravan is: my face, Dai's prankster act, or Alain's feelings for Layla."

Jackie laughed too, though not unkindly. "Imagine how well we'll know each other by the end of the year!"

"I think that's what I'm most afraid of," Megan joked.

* * *

When Layla had volunteered her life for Dai's, Alain hadn't spoken up to stop her. He hadn't known what to say. He liked her, certainly, cared for her. But did he love her? It was too soon to tell. But the potential for them to be more than comrades, more than friends... it hadn't been enough for her to want to stay.

The thought was like a blow to his heart, and so he laid out his bedroll beside the others in silence. He did not try to sleep near Layla this time, taking a place across the makeshift fire pit. Why had she not even looked at him when she offered her life in exchange for Dai's health?

It was as if something ugly took root inside of him as more and more poisonous thoughts began to swirl in his mind.

* * *

Alain forced his own thoughts to quiet as he strained to hear Jackie and Rox's conversation. _Huh, didn't see that one coming._ But he could also see where the two would be good for one another, her cheerfulness lighting Rox's darker moments and his steadiness making up for her more flighty moments.

Finally he recognized the feeling that had been building since the moment that Layla had offered to give her life in exchange for Dai's, who she supposedly didn't even like. _I'm jealous. I want what they have._

* * *

Alain glanced over to where Rox seemed busy with his journal and where Dai muttered in his sleep, amusing even when he wasn't trying to be. Megan and Jackie were still out cold. This was probably the most privacy they would ever get.

"If you..." he paused, trying to word it correctly. "If you don't feel the same anymore, it's okay. I get it." He hurried to explain himself. "I mean, Dai's really funny. And he's the kind of guy girls like. So if you... if you don't...if you want me to leave you alone, it's okay. I'm not mad. Even if I can't be your... your _boyfriend_," he practically whispered the last word, "I'll still be your friend."

* * *

It was probably the most glorious moment of his life so far. It was not what he had expected, and yet in the instant she leaned forward he had _known_.

Her lips were soft, surprisingly so. Though it was a simple, close mouthed kiss, the warmth that seemed to fill his entire being said it was anything but simple. And though he knew-hoped-that this would be just the first of many, he also knew that this would be the kiss that he judged all the others in his life by. And no matter how skilled or complex, all those other kisses would be found wanting.

Rox may have chuckled to himself, but Alain was too wrapped up in Layla to care. He touched her face delicately, tracing the line of her jaw with his fingertips before backing away.

He wanted to say something, anything. But he couldn't have spoken if he'd tried to.

* * *

"Rox, no," Alain said, putting his foot down for once in his life. He stood, moving into Rox's path. "You can't keep that. Seriously, throw it down, bury it, anything but keep it."

Alain took a deep breath. He wanted to stand down. He did. He wanted so badly to crawl back into his bedroll, to curl up next to Layla, to hold her hand through the night. But at the same time he could see that same Rox he'd seen that night in the inn, the one that had something inexplicably dark in him. He couldn't let this go so easily.

"Rox, please. You can't be thinking. If you were thinking at all, even a little bit, you'd know that this is just another trick."

* * *

Alain stared down at his hands, watching the way they shook uncontrollably, then looked back up to Rox and Meg. The others stood transfixed, as if so shocked by the turn of events that they couldn't even fathom how to act.

_The things we have come to these past few days._

* * *

Alain awoke with a start, sweating profusely. He'd had a terrible dream, something about a mountain, and fire, and a man with a tattered red cloak...

He looked around in a panic, and at first everything was well. Layla and Demi still slept, but the further he turned...

At the sight of Rox obviously hurt, Alain tore through his packs. "The magicite was only just activated," he said, focusing the Cure stone on Rox. "It might not do hardly anything for you."

He didn't dare ask where Dai was. He remembered Rox's order from earlier in the evening. If the Selkie had run for the miasma, well, could any of them have really saved him from himself?

* * *

As a rancher who lived on the outskirts of Tipa, Alain hadn't known all of the people in the village. Suddenly he wondered. "Was there ever a Dai Soo? I mean, did anyone know him before the caravan?"

He returned Layla's hug, holding her tightly to him. He was suddenly afraid for her, for all of them.

As Alain looked around the circle, he realized with a sudden chill that he really couldn't trust any of them. After all, he hadn't really known any of them before the caravan. Perhaps they were all puppets too? He amended that quickly. He was fairly sure he'd seen all of them around town before.

Still... he looked from face to face. His heart wanted to trust them, wanted to go on as they had been, but his brain was stepping in and telling him to rethink everything.

Alain found himself looking at Demi, the only one in the circle he knew next to nothing about. She was strong, ridiculously skilled in an art few practiced. She was an innkeeper, once. She hadn't come outside during the battle in the storm, even though she probably would have been more useful.

_No,_ he thought to himself. _Stop this. You're seeing enemies everywhere!_

"Trying to divide us," Megan suggested. "Trying to weaken us by making us stand alone."

* * *

Alain nodded, still taking in Rox's words. It had been hard enough standing on the sidelines of Rox's very personal fight with Scarmiglione. He couldn't imagine enduring a fight on his own.

"I saw a mountain of fire," Alain said. "I saw it like I was standing on the sea, looking at it from far away. He was standing over the mountain, massive, but shrinking as I looked closer. And I knew, as if he'd whispered it in my ear, that he was waiting at the summit. That he would meet me there." He didn't say the other knowledge Rubicante had imparted to him. That he would meet his end there at the demon's hand.

* * *

Alain wrapped his arm around Layla's shoulders. He looked around the circle, from Demi who stood smiling awkwardly in the background to the grinning Jackie, from the seething Rox to the finally reunited (and never to be parted, if their kiss was any indication) Meg and Dai. Things were suddenly... complete again.

* * *

Alain helped the one Lilty to his feet, the other man using his spear to support himself. "Aren't you a bit out of place here?"

The Lilty, who was clad in armor that shone black in the sunlight, huffed slightly. "Don't know," he said, knocking his visor back with one gauntlet covered hand. Faded red lines crisscrossed his face, the slashes too even to be anything but deliberate. His blue eyes seemed slightly unfocused. "Here's good as any."

A tentacle sprang from the ground, but the man quickly blocked it, then used the momentum of his spear to bring the double edged blade around for another swipe. "Thanks," Alain gasped. He hadn't even seen the blow coming.

The Lilty shook his head at him, leveling his spear. "'Tis I should be thanking ye, lad. I won't..." he paused, and something bitter and infinitely lost crossed over his face. "I won't forget ye." He replaced his visor, then with a loud yell, charged the malboro.

* * *

_If they're willing to pursue us across the continent for no better reason than that, then they're never going to stop. We'll have to kill them, or be killed ourselves._ Somehow the realization didn't bother him as much as the way the Lilty flexed first one glove, then the next. Alain wrapped an arm around Layla as if to protect her, waving the warrior down as his hand passed behind her back.

The other man appeared not to notice, still fixing his gear where it had been dislodged by the malboro. Alain bit his lip. If he attacked now, they would all die, as certain as anything.

"Oh," he muttered into Layla's hair, lips barely disturbing the already rumpled strands as he pictured how the slaughter would go, "Why didn't I tell you I loved you before this?"

* * *

"Please respect the dead," Alain said quietly to the Lilty. "You may not have known her, but she was good, and brave, and she really cared about us."

The Lilty nodded, then scuffed a boot across the grass before walking back to the caravan. He watched him go, before turning back to the others and the grave. Looking down onto her blanket shrouded face, red hair spilling from it in waves, he said, "You were at your finest in the forest, Demi. I'll remember you that way." He couldn't stop the tears that came then, or the sob that caught in his throat and made his voice crack.

* * *

Someone stopped him as he left the building, a hand clamped on his shoulder in an unforgiving grip. Alain turned, frowned. "What do you want?" he asked the Lilty in black.

"I owe ye," the man said after a moment spent regarding the Clavat. "Anything. Ye name it, lad."

"Can you save her?" Alain asked, knowing that the Lilty understood his question perfectly. At the sharp jerk of the dark helm to one side, he shook his own head. "There's nothing else I need." He turned on his heel and headed for the blacksmith's, ignoring the muttering of the Lilty behind him.

* * *

Alain stepped into the darkened room, letting his eyes adjust before moving further. He noticed the pile of clothing left on the chair and immediately looked to the bed.

She was probably already asleep, so he went through his evening routine without a second thought and slid between the sheets with a sigh. The feather stuffed mattresses felt like heaven. For a moment he could forget about sleeping on the ground for the past months as he luxuriated in the softness.

Still, he tossed and turned. Something felt off. He'd left something undone today... but what?

At last it came to him. With a slight sigh at his own idiocy and a smile, he rolled to his left and softly pressed his lips to Layla's shoulder. "Good night," he whispered.

* * *

Alain shrugged, his own mouth full of food. He hastily swallowed. "Don't know, don't mind," he said. He took her hand in his, running a callused thumb over her knuckles. Her skin had already begun to adjust to her training regime. "So Aeil took the news...well, then. Or as well as can be expected anyway."

He thought of Demi, standing behind the inn counter with a welcoming smile. He thought of her with her eyes narrowed in concentration, one fist cocked back as she and Layla sparred. He thought of the fire in her eyes as she battled, and the way she had gasped out her last words. And then, in a mental leap he hadn't expected to make, he thought of being a father, and hearing that his baby girl had died on a battlefield far from home.

Biting his lip, he squeezed Layla's hand. When they returned to Tipa, he would tell his mother and father everything that had passed this year. That way, if he died, they would not be left wondering what had happened. They would understand.

* * *

With a start, he came back to the moment. He sighed and loosened his grip on her hand. "I was thinking about being a father," he said softly, not looking into her eyes as a flush crept up his neck. "And finding out that my little girl had died. I was thinking about how that would feel. And then I realized just what it took for my parents to let me walk away from them that morning, third son or not."

* * *

Alain traded his sword to his right hand as he wiped the sweat from his palm. It was so damn dark in here, and they were packed so closely together in the tunnel. He found himself panting as he switched the sword again, wiping his other hand on his breeches.

Their footsteps seemed to echo against the tunnel walls. Surely every monster within a hundred paces could hear them. He found himself imagining what might lurk just beyond the light of the torch.

* * *

Layla shook herself to wakefulness, wincing at the stiffness of her newly formed skin. She looked to Alain, who still crouched by her protectively.

"You're all healed up," he said with a sigh, "And ready to run off and get hurt again."

"I'll try not to," she said, reaching a hand up to be pulled off the ground. She didn't bother to dust herself off, only checking to make sure her gloves were tight across her knuckles before running to join the others.

"Not good enough," Alain muttered, circling around to wait near the orc king's flank, sword at the ready.

* * *

Dusk had fallen on the village and Alain's father had already begun to light the candles and lanterns around the room. His siblings and their families had left for the festival already, and at last he stood alone with his father. His throat felt tight. It had been difficult not to cry throughout the harder parts, especially now that they were all safe. If there were ever a good time to break down, it was now.

"Tell me the truth, Al," his father said after a moment, his back to his second son as he stared out at the crystal. "Would ye do it again?"

Alain thought it over for several long moments. At last he spoke softly. "Since I left all those months ago, I've seen and done things you wouldn't believe. I've breathed poison but didn't die. I was frozen and waterlogged and burned and paralyzed at times, but here I am. I met five strangers who managed to become my best friends and they carried me through. I kissed a girl and somewhere along the way fell in love with her. I cried over a friend who left us far too soon, and I carved my name into the place we buried her. I dealt with a demon who wanted me to die because I was more of a gentleman than any other caravanner he'd seen. I've seen three myrrh trees. I've seen a Yuke's face, kissed a Clavat crazy, been kissed by a crazy Selkie, and rescued a Lilty with no memory. And I killed, Father. I killed and killed until it became easier to unsheath my sword than it did to sheath it. Would I do it all over again? Yes. A dozen times, yes," he said.

"Do ye think ye'll ever come back for good? Run the ranch with us?"

He couldn't answer, not because he was torn, but because the answer was so obviously and emphatically no. How could he go back to the ranch routine, when the outside world had held such joys and tragedies?

His father turned away from the crystal at last. "I figured as much," he said, and hugged Alain to him. His beard and cheeks were wet, but Alain embraced his father tightly anyway. "We love ye, Al. Yer ma and me, we love ye. And we're so damn proud."


	11. Kelpies and Conversations

**In Which Rox Learns to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb**

* * *

Rox always had a knack for remembering conversations. His father had jokingly called him "my little sponge" when he was a child for his uncanny ability to pick up on anything and everything. He could remember conversations he'd had during playtime at the village school. He could remember tiny moments of talking with his siblings over early morning breakfast tables. Much to his eternal shame, he could also perfectly recall the awkward 'birds and the bees' talk his father had tried to have with him, and later, the much more thorough (and thoroughly humiliating) lecture his mother had given him about sex and sexuality.

So it was no surprise to him when, after Jackie approached him one night with an uncharacteristically serious expression on her face, he was able to recall exactly the conversation that had led to this moment.

"Rox," she said quietly, glancing back at the others, who chatted cheerfully around the fire, "Can I talk to you? Alone?"

He followed her around the back of the wagon, taking in every detail of her, from the furrow between her brows to the way she kept twisting her hands around. His cheerful girlfriend just did not fret this way. "What's wrong, Jack?" he asked, keeping his voice low. The others would grant them as much privacy as possible, he knew, but it was best to keep it down.

"I think I'm pregnant," she blurted out, and he thought that maybe she had cast a spell on him simultaneously, for his heart stopped momentarily.

He didn't sputter. Rox did not _sputter._ He just _didn't_, okay_?_ Rox was completely and utterly calm, like a still pool, when he said, all professional-like and calmly, "Are you sure? I mean, how do you know? Maybe it's a mistake. Maybe it's not your baby."

Jackie gave him a look she must have learned from Megan, for it conveyed that she thought him a complete and utter idiot. "I've missed my period for the third month in a row now, Rox."

Rox did not reel backwards like he'd been sucker-punched. He did not reel. He just _didn't_, okay? Rox was as steady as the rocks his name sounded like. He was cool and collected. "But, I mean…are you sure?"

And then his traitorous mind betrayed him, and he recalled a conversation from three months prior.

"_Rox, I want to, but we really shouldn't. I'm out of herbs, and the last thing we need to do is make a new discovery in the realms of racial reproduction."_

"_Oh, come on Jack, it'll be fine. All that miasma exposure has likely made us both sterile anyway."_

"_I don't know."_

"_We don't have to do anything. Come on, let's just go to bed and cuddle."_

But of course they hadn't been able to resist the time to themselves away from the others. Rox took a deep breath and sighed. He should have known this would happen. He could practically re-hear his mother's lecture now. _If you ever have sex outside of marriage, your partner will get pregnant for sure! Even if you have a boy-partner! Pregnancy!_

"Okay, Jackie," he said, taking her hands and rubbing her knuckles gently with the pads of his thumbs. "I'm here for you. What do you want to do?"

She looked at him, still frowning. "I want to keep the baby."

He sucked in a breath, considering. "Are you sure? We've got a long way to go on the road still. And I have no idea how the mixed race issue will play out in terms of gestation." He chuckled at his own little pun.

"Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "Just that having a baby that's half Yuke, half Selkie might make your pregnancy term shorter or longer than usual. I really don't know."

"So you're really okay with this?" Jackie asked, eyes shining in the dim glow from the fire. "I don't want to rope you into anything."

Rox tugged her hands, pulling her to him and embracing her. "I really am okay with this," he said, and laughed ruefully. "The question is whether my mother will be."

"Forget about your mother," Jackie said. "What about the rest of the caravan?"

It was a good question, but she needn't have worried.

* * *

They waited until the next morning. Rox was still utterly cool and calm, not worried about what his friends might think at all. _At all._

The group sat solemnly around the embers of last night's fire, listening as Jackie relayed her information. It was so simple. She was pregnant, they were having a baby, his and hers together. He pretended not to notice the way that Jackie's gaze drooped lower and lower until her eyes were focused on the dusty, rocky ground, or the way that Megan began to twist her wedding band around her finger over and over.

Jackie was beginning to babble about baby clothes when Layla abruptly stood from the blanket she'd been seated on, walked over to Jackie and pulled the Selkie into a hug. "Congratulations!" she said, taking her friend's hands. "Are you and Rox going to get married? What are you going to name the baby?"

Then Alain was up, following his lady's lead and hugging Jackie too, then clapping Rox on the back in a blow that _did not_ make him stagger. "Congrats," the farm boy offered. "Just… don't name it after its daddy, okay?"

"I'm offended by that remark," Rox said, drawing up to his full height. "Raeanalas Ozeriata Xalferi is a family name, I'll have you know."

"Dear gods, let the tradition end here, then," Alain widened his eyes in false alarm, laughing at his friend. In the meantime, Megan had joined Jackie and Layla's hug.

"I call god-mum!" Elinor shouted before leaping onto Rox's shoulders. He took her weight with a grunt.

"What _are_ you going to call the baby?" Layla asked.

Megan laughed. "I think it's a little early to ask them that, Layla."

"No, I mean, you can't keep calling it half Yuke, half Selkie. What would you call a baby like that? A Yukie?"

"Sounds too much like Yuke," Elinor advised from her high position on Rox. "How about Seluke?"

"That's just downright strange," Alain argued. "How about Yelkie?"

"I don't want to get into this," Rox protested, only to be interrupted by Jackie's "No, now that's too much Selkie!" He groaned.

"Seuke?" Layla tried, twisting her tongue through the vowels.

"Kieyuk?"

"What the hell? That's bizarre!" Rox said, once again drowned out by his so-called friends.

"Okay, how about Kelkie?"

"No, no, no, Kelpie! Isn't that word cute? You're having a Kelpie baby!" Elinor clapped her hands excitedly.

Feeling as if he were completely in control and _not_ as if everything had spiraled beyond his reach, Rox said, "That doesn't even make sense. It doesn't combine both names at all!"

Jackie looked up at him, eyes shining. "But it's cute!"

And so Rox conceded on the first of many, many things concerning his child.

* * *

Several months later, the caravan rolled over up and over the last hill to Tipa, the setting sun turning the peninsula golden and the ocean waves the color of dusk.

Several stone markers littered the path, indicating where the village crystal's barrier began. A little farther up the path, a purple-haired man waited, his wide grin even more visible than his lurid hair.

"Dai!" Megan shouted, leaping from the wagon and running toward him. They collided with a shout, kissing each other frantically as the rest of the caravan cheered and made obscene suggestions.

"I've always wondered how he knows to meet us out here," Rox said conversationally from where he rode in the back with Jackie. Once upon a time he had been the one to look as green as a brand new sailor. Now his pregnant fiancée put his old motion sickness to shame.

Layla turned from the driver's box to look back at him with a smile. "I asked Alain this morning what time he thought we'd arrive and then sent Mog ahead. I do that every year."

"That makes sense," the Yuke conceded with a chuckle. "Wait. Does that mean everyone knows we're here?"

"Probably," she offered sweetly.

"Crap."

* * *

Rox's mother took one look at Jackie's very round belly and equally grouchy face, and promptly fainted.

"Son, you've gone and done it now," said his father mournfully.

* * *

Outside, the villagers were gathering for a festival. The night was cool and lovely, with a slight hint of a breeze bringing in the salty ocean air. The dirt paths, fields, and grassy hills were familiar. They were home, and it was time to celebrate.

Inside, Rox stared at his mother, who lay prostrate across the sofa with her arms flung out dramatically. "Brandy!" she called weakly. "Husband, bring me brandy!" Rox's father obliged, helping her to a seated position, and she swigged it down like the drink was going out of style. "Now, son," she said, focusing on him. "Tell me you're not serious."

"I am serious," Rox said steadily. He would not lose his cool. Rox _never, ever, ever_ lost his cool. "I'm going to marry Jackie Raie, and we're going to have a baby."

"No!" Rox's mother moaned, extending the 'o' as she flung herself back, arms akimbo once more, so that it sounded more like "NOOOOooooooo…" Rox gritted his teeth, marking the throbbing headache starting in his temples and knowing that it was only going to get worse.

"Raeanalas," she said. "My darling son. Surely you can't… she's a Selkie, sweetie!"

"I know that, Mother," he said.

"What will you even call that half-breed thing?" she demanded.

Rox yawned, "A baby, most likely." He wished his father would bring him some of that brandy.

His mother made another noise intending to convey despair, but just ended up sounding like a mu going through its death throes. "A half-breed! My son, about to have a half-breed! A freak!"

"We've decided to call it a Kelpie, for now," Rox told her, as his father leaned in through the kitchen door to helpfully chip in, "Sweetie, our son is one of those half-breeds."

Rox's mother shot up again, and then flung herself back to the cushions. "But he's a half-breed that makes sense: a Cluke! You can't make any words out of Yukes and Selkies!"

Once again Rox was left staring at his mother as his father said, "Oh, I thought we'd decided to call him a Yuvat," then ducked back into the kitchen, leaving his son to battle his wife's logic.

* * *

Rox staggered out of his house the next morning with his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes bleary and bloodshot. The argument had started to wind down an hour past midnight, but then he'd unhelpfully pointed out that, given his own half-breed status, his baby would be a quarter-breed. His mother had found new strength then.

He found Jackie waddling up to the crystal from the river. "How'd it go with your folks?" she asked. He grunted in reply and she laughed. "My father's still not too keen on the idea, but I assured him it was what I wanted. Now all my family wants to do is make sure that you've more of your father in you than your mother."

"Oh gods," Rox muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Now you know why I like to pretend I came from the village cabbage patch." Lifting his head up, he spotted Elinor down the path a ways, heading for Alain's home. "I've got an idea," he told Jackie, taking her hand and tugging her down in Elinor's wake.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, lacing their fingers together.

"Elli wants to be god-mum so much," Rox said, "And my mom's so obsessed with this mixed-race thing… let's tell her Elli's your cousin and you're half-Lilty too."

Jackie laughed so loudly that a few nearby sparrows took flight and the baby kicked so hard even Rox and Elinor could feel it and laugh with her.

* * *

After a long day of training, the group collapsed beside the river. Alain, Layla, and Elinor quickly shucked their gear and dove into the cool water, while Megan and Dai splashed about in the shallows and Jackie dipped her swollen feet in. Rox sat beside her, feet very much out of the water. It wasn't that he didn't like water. He just didn't feel like being in it right now, okay?

"So what are you going to name the baby?" Megan asked, wading over to the side to perch on a rock and chat. Dai followed, hopping on the rock behind her and leaning his head against her back, wrapping his arms around his wife.

"I was thinking Sam," Jackie said, "After my dad."

"That's sweet," Megan replied. "He'd like that."

Rox snorted, unable to help himself. "Sam Xalferi? That's a ridiculous name. I thought we'd agreed on Melvin."

Silence fell over the river bank as even Alain, Layla, and Elinor stopped their play to listen in. Megan's eyes were wide, and Jackie's face looked stormy. From behind Megan's back Dai shook his head slowly and pityingly at Rox.

"I thought I told you I hate the name Melvin, and I wasn't aware our baby's name would include Xalferi," Jackie said at last, smiling stiffly at him. "And you can't pretend you don't remember that conversation, dear. I know you."

"Well, of course I remember," Rox said, looking away from where Dai was making a severing motion across his throat. "But, I mean, Melvin is a great name, and you are marrying me, Mrs. Xalferi."

"I also wasn't aware I'd be changing my name," Jackie said.

Megan shifted uncomfortably on the rock. "Uh, maybe Dai and I should let you two have this conversation in private."

Dai shook his head at Rox. "Roxy~ you should quit while you're ahead."

Rox laughed. "Well, I'm not changing my name!"

As the _cultured debate_ (Rox just did not have fights) began over whether the baby would be Sam Xalferi Raie or Melvin Raie Xalferi, Alain shifted uncomfortably in the middle of the stream. "I can't decide if it would be more awkward to drown myself right now or swim away," he whispered to Layla, but not quietly enough. Elinor winced visibly.

"Let me join you," she hissed, and the three of them floated away downstream as the argument escalated, Megan and Dai grabbing the discarded gear and making their own swift escape.

* * *

The baby was born a few weeks before the caravan was set to leave again. The healer said it had been an easy birth, but Rox's broken fingers would tell a different story. As it was, the group gave the couple a week to recuperate and catch up on sleep before they crammed into their new home demanding to see the cute little Kelpie. As it turned out, their argument had gone nowhere, for-

"Oh!" Elinor squealed, touching the baby's feet, "She's perfect!"

-the rather long, Selkie-tan skinned and crimson haired baby was a girl.

As god-mum, Elinor called first dibs on the baby, rocking her a bit before passing her on to Alain, who cooed even more than anyone else. At Megan's questioning glance, Layla shrugged. "He loves babies," she said in an aside. "He told me he wants to have an entire caravan-worth of kids. I told him to get a new girlfriend or do it himself."

Alain at last passed the baby on to Dai, whom Megan would later eye speculatively and contemplate how adorable and wonderful he'd looked holding the infant. Then it was her turn, and then Layla's. At last the baby was passed back to her proud parents, where Elinor reclaimed her.

"Little Aimee, huh?" Elinor asked, tucking a finger into the baby's instinctive grip. "She is the cutest Kelpie I've ever seen!"

"You've never seen another one," Alain teased her as Rox said, "Well, we both have siblings with similar names. Figured we'd keep both sides happy."

"A wise choice," Layla said teasingly. "And I noticed you conceded on the last name issue, Rox."

"We decided to both keep our names!" Jackie protested.

Rox shook his head a bit mournfully, then chuckled and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. "I'm getting more and more used to this conceding thing," he admitted. "But we're definitely naming the next baby Melvin."

The group laughed, and baby Aimee Raie-Xalferi yawned. Neither of her parents would be rejoining the caravan for the coming cycle, but Dai would be going as a substitute. Both in Tipa and abroad, it would be an interesting year.

* * *

**The End?**

It's been awhile since I've written a Loveshack chapter! I missed these guys. I have a lot of random speculative thoughts for our RP, but this one came up recently and was too good to pass up (and involved making fun of Rox, which I apparently can't resist :D). All jokes on Rox, Jackie, Meg, Dai, Alain, Layla, and Elli were made with love. Thanks for reading!


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